The Chances of Unlife
by DatCrazyAnnieGurl
Summary: Every monster has a story to tell from the beginning of their existence to their end... {feature most characters; mix of dairies/specials/webisodes/headcanon story/mature themes/preboot/heavily inspired from Milestones by Shapphire Ox)
1. Light and Darkness

The early hours of day in the outside in Monster side of New Jersey, a young boy no older than ten was laying on the ground outside the front of the house he and his parents recently moved into over a week ago, his small limps stretched out along the long green grass, it felt bumpy underneath his back. His eyes that matched the colour of the red and orange beams in the sky welcoming the sunrise were closed, he breathed in slowly through his lips, waiting. Waiting for something. Anything.

The sun was getting higher. He can see the light getting brighter behind his eye lids.

A feeling of warmth started to build up inside his chest, it was growing throughout the rest of his body.

He knew this feeling, it began every single ray of dawn meeting this side of the universe for as long as he could remember. He didn't know why, but every time he always felt like a part of him was going to a deep slumber, like the heroes and the princesses in the stories his mother would read to him when he was bored and she couldn't sleep. He never was really interested in that sort of stuff, but he always loved listening to his mother's voice when he could. It was like a soft rhythm to a song he always listens to, and he would never get bored. It smoothed him and made him feel happy.

The boy yawned. He was getting sleepy, but he never felt sleepy during the night; always at dawn.

 _But wait, it wasn't what he wanted! He didn't want to go to sleep, yet!_

But no matter what he thought or tried, he couldn't stay awake. Sleep met him just as the sun beamed light over the small neighbourhood. It felt like the world stopped working. He couldn't even think as he finally saw it. The reason he came out here in the first place. Even with his eyes closed, a bright light flashed through his body and mind, as if it was twisting and changing him, in a way.

It was like a ghost had entered and left his body in one second, only to be replaced with another. Like someone wanted to take control. Then, he was gone. Only to be woken by his worried dad and the other version of his mother. But he wasn't focusing on his parents and their questions asking if he was okay, because, once again like every other morning, he was questioning what happened to himself, everything he had been doing for the last few hours.

It felt like a dream, but it was too far to grasp, but it _was_ there. All he could remember was the sunrise.

That night it began again.

He just woke up, he must have been writing or drawing because he was laying on his back on his bedroom carpet floor, paper and different coloured pencils scattered around him. The sun was long gone outside as the moon took its place in the sky. The moon's light was shining through his bedroom window.

The door cracked opened by an inch, it was only seven 'o'clock which would mean mom would have been still out at work until 8:30.

An hour and thirty minutes left.

An older and deeper voice startled him out of his thoughts, "Holt?"

Turning away from the hallway clock and to the direction of the voice, he made his way towards the older Fire Elemental, his grip on the door handle let go.

"Y… Yeah?" His voice was high pitched and quiet, something the older noticed he only did when he was confused or upset. Tim bend onto one knee to meet the boy's eyes, concerned written on his pale-yellow face, "are you alright, son?"

Holt bit his lip, hesitating whenever or not he should tell the older man his thoughts. Would he think of them as stupid, or something?

"D… Dad?" Holt was hunching ever so slightly, his arm griping onto his other tight.

"I…" He paused, "Is there something wrong with me?"

Tim's heart was breaking for the boy; he wished he could just tell him everything. To hold him in his arms and tell him everything will be okay.

Tim swallowed a lump in his throat, a half smile upping the corners of his lips. _Hold your ground, man._

"No. Of course not."

Some part of Holt probably knew he was lying, but if his dad said he was alright, then he'll take that answer…

Footsteps were coming down stairs in a hurry. Tim turned his head to smile at his now teenaged son set himself in the seat between he and Sydney at the breakfast table. Jackson stopped himself for a moment, the steam of the freshly made eggs and bacon fogging his glasses.

"… Did you know that Holt and I were the same person?" He asked, looking between the both, his dark eyebrows frowned.

Standing up from her spot at the table and gathering hers and Tim's now empty plates, Sydney surprisingly sound calm.

"Well, of course we knew you and Holt were the same person-we're your parents; now finish your breakfast or you'll be late for school." Then she turned to the sink to wash the dishes. Jackson was looking at him now, he took a deep breath though his nostrils.

"Yeah, what your mother said." He was speechless, because honestly, he was _very_ happy that after fourteen years of predicting how this would have turned out was better than he thought (well, sixteen years if you count all the long restless nights wondering what would happen if his son had another side and how he, Sydney and Lyla would have that conversation).

When Jackson had one day messaged Holt of the events of their parents' reaction, Holt simply replied,

' **lol ;)'**


	2. Village Rumors

__Dearest father,__

 _ _I cannot bare being without your presentence anymore; mother wouldn't stop crying most nights wishing you were still here, I am growing up without a father to protect me. I am thirteen now, my fourteenth birthday only in 2 weeks. Four years since your passing but it still feels like it was only yesterday.__

 _ _Mother wants to try and get us back on our feet again, so tomorrow we will be traveling to Transylvania to work for a rich man I've never heard of before. I hear some people say he's working for the devil, others say he__ is _t_ _ _he devil. There's been other rumours about him too, but before I could find out more mother starts to make excuse for me not to hear. Every time someone tries to tell me the stories of the man, mother always seems to be there to stop it, every time. I'm slightly scared but I must be brave. For mother. For you. Mother said this will be good for us, and I trust her words with all my heart.__

 _ _Love your daughter,__

 _ _Laura-Maire.__

Laura put the quilt down onto the ground next to her. Gently, she picked up the newly written piece of paper from her lap and stood up from her spot on the ground and walked to the small fire, carefully folding the paper twice and throwing it into the fire, she watched as the paper burned and crumbled into ashes. From the other side of the fire was an older version of the girl shivering into her thin blanket from the cold wind as she eyed the girl.

"Laura, get away from the fire or you'll burn your dress." Her voice was too weak to sound stern, even so Laura still took a few steps back, her dark pink boot heels slightly digging into the grass. She looked away from her mother chattering her teeth.

Laura didn't really understand why her mother was overreacting about, it wasn't __that__ cold.

"So, when will we be leaving?" Asked Laura, picking up her quilt and putting it in one of the pocket layers of her skirt.

"When night falls the Count will send one of his men to get us, dear." Laura raised an eyebrow.

"But why night time?"

Sighing, her mother met her eyes; the only thing that splits them apart from being a younger and older self. Her mother had baby blue eyes while she had violet, just like her father's once were.

"Because that was what was said in the letter," Laura opened her mouth to protest, "Darling, __please__. No more."

Laura huffed, losing her balance in the protest, slamming her backside onto the ground she yelped, "Ow!"

Her mother just rolled her eyes, turning to face the sun setting through the field outside the gates of the village. Not long now and then they can restart their lives. No more of this dreadful place.

Ever since her husband William died she never dared to remarry, this wasn't because she didn't had any suitors, in fact many men wanted her, she made a beautiful young bride ("You're going to steal so many hearts, Isabella." Her mother would say when she was younger), but how can you ever let another into your heart again if it was none? Hers was broken, nobody liked broken things. After months of refusing the hands of many rich and beautiful young men, the townspeople started to look down upon her and her daughter. Many different rumours started to spread throughout the village, a _ _re they witches? Is the child a bastered? Do they not believe in God? Do you think they killed the poor man? How could she do that to those poor men?__

That town had always been cursed with rotten of people.

They sat and waited for what felt like hours, watching the fire begin to burn out. The sky was pitch black so it was probably not a big surprise when a stick-like man who easily blended in the dark with the shadows wearing the amount black and dark grey clothing like he did with sickly white skin and slicked back grey hair had came out of nowhere suddenly. His face didn't look so friendly one bit. Eyeing the both, he opened his mouth to speak,

"The Count requests your presence." Was all he said in a low voice, almost like a growl.

This was when Laura noticed something.

He had sharp pearly white fangs.

 _ **Authors Notes: had wanted to continue but writers block sure is at its finest, yo.**_


End file.
